


one day soon there'll be nothing left of you and me

by dialecstatic



Series: whatever a sun will always sing is you [6]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, And all that jazz, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Q slur, Smut, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, feelings - freeform, idk what im doing tbhonestly, just sex like... yeah, only one instance but better safe than sorry, trans!ten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 15:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dialecstatic/pseuds/dialecstatic
Summary: ten and johnny are a perfect storm.





	one day soon there'll be nothing left of you and me

**Author's Note:**

> an: i use they/them pronouns for yuta in this after using she/her in the previous fic because i hc yuta as genderfluid in this verse & thus they tend to switch pronouns around. just wanted to clear up any confusion there might be if you read the previous fic!
> 
> enjoy~!

Johnny’s phone doesn’t usually ring at this hour, so when an unknown number flashes on the screen, he feels a mixture of curiosity and dread creeping up his spine.

 

“Hello, this is Johnny speaking?” he answers tentatively, relief temporarily washing over him when he immediately recognizes the voice on the other end.

 

“Hey, it’s me. Ten, I mean… Listen, it’s a long story, and I’ll tell you all about it later but…” 

 

The pause on the other end is a little too long to make Johnny settle in any way.

 

“I need you to come bail us out, kind of. Me and Yuta, I mean.” Ten finally drops, like a pebble in a shallow pond. 

 

Johnny’s heart, on the other hand, drops all the way to his stomach.

 

“What in the world did you two get yourselves into? Ten, you can’t just say this like it happens everyday-- I mean, it kind of does, but…”

 

“Johnny… Listen, okay? We’re at the police station near the studio, and they won’t let us out until they can speak to a ‘responsible adult’ or whatever.”

 

“I’m definitely not the one you should be calling then.” Johnny replies, only-half amused, his mouth dry. 

 

“Well I would try Kun, but in all honesty I’m too afraid she’ll try to put me on house arrest.” Beat. “Johnny. Please just… Just get your ass over here. Just this one time.”

 

Johnny sighs, already heading for the door.

 

“I’m going to pretend this is, in fact, the first time you’ve asked me to do this. Stay where you are, don’t try to engage the cops in a debate, again, I’m on my way.” 

 

He hears Ten laugh on the other end, and though Johnny struggles to find any part of the situation funny, it’s still so typical that he can’t help but smile as he pockets his phone and walks out of the dorm.

  
  


That particular police station is just a few blocks away from campus and Johnny walks there as fast as he can, squinting when the light-up sign comes into view. He hesitantly pushes the door open, searches the room for any sign of Ten and Yuta. He finds the both of them slouched against uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs, trying to grab Ten’s attention before the stumpy guy behind the front desk calls for him.

 

“Hi, yes, I’m here for these two?” Johnny says with all the conviction he can muster. He doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to.

 

The man grumbles something about paperwork and shoves a clipboard in Johnny’s hands before calling for his colleague to collect Ten and Yuta. It’s a comical affair, Yuta nearly snarling at the officer when he touches their arm to signal that Johnny’s here, while Ten only slings an arm around their shoulders and guides them away. 

 

It takes excruciatingly long minutes for Johnny to make his way down the form, and thankfully this time there’s no actual bail to pay. The front desk operator sends the three of them away with a disgruntled look, and a mumbled “don’t come back”, to which Yuta almost replies, Johnny quickly tucking them under his arm and guiding them out of the building.

 

“Okay, what the fuck was that about? You fought some guys?” he immediately enquires when they’re out onto the street, Ten hanging off of a lamppost like nothing happened.

 

“We,” Yuta interjects, voice low and filled with that certain kind of anger they only reserve for one kind of people. “Only defended ourselves.”

 

“They tried to start shit with Yuta, and you know how that usually goes.” 

 

Ten saunters towards Johnny, plastering himself against him, arms wound tightly around his waist. 

 

“Yeah, I know.” It doesn’t make it any less terrifying each time, though, Johnny thinks to himself.

 

“It’s fine, babe. You know I move quickly! Got that fucker in the jaw before he even knew it.” 

 

The smile Ten flashes him almost makes Johnny forget the ridiculous nature of their current situation.

 

“You say this like it’s a good thing.” he retaliates, poking Ten’s stomach and relishing in the yelp it gets out of him. “Time to get you home and keep you there.”

 

Yuta gives them an exaggeratedly disgusted look and a sigh, hoisting their bag up on their shoulder and wincing. They don’t say anything about it so Johnny leaves it, knowing better than to assume Yuta is anything but capable of taking care of themself. 

 

“I’m going to head back too. You two enjoy your night, okay? Good vibes only.”

 

There’s a certain bitterness in the way they say this, and Ten seems to notice because he leaves Johnny’s side for just a second to hug Yuta goodbye, and his eyes do not leave them until he sees them disappear inside the subway station. 

 

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Johnny calls where he’s still standing, waiting for Ten to open up. It’s never easy, but he needs to know.

 

“Just a couple of dumbasses. The usual. It’s our lot in life, us dirty queers, you know?” 

 

“Did they really call you that.” No reply. Johnny feels something like frustration and helplessness bubbling under his skin. “Ten.” 

 

“Among other things. Nothing we haven’t heard a million times before.” Ten finally admits, taking Johnny’s hand to start walking. “Thanks for coming to the rescue, my Superman.”

 

Sometimes, Johnny wishes he could always be with Ten, to prevent things like this from happening. He hates to think that Ten needs his protection somehow, that he’s some fragile little thing to be kept away from the world, and he knows Ten would hate it too, if he knew. But he can’t help it, can’t deny that the fear in his gut grows a little more every time something like this happens. There’s no harm in wanting to keep the ones you love safe, is how Johnny tries to rationalize it, even if it eats away at him. 

 

“You know I always will.”

  
___  
  
  


Ten’s apartment is, for all intents and purposes, very much in his image. There’s fairy lights strung across the walls, flyers and pamphlets hiding most of the paint, the pink and blue transgender pride flag suspended above his desk. Two large speakers reside on the table among a pile of haphazardly cut up fabric, a sewing machine that might be older than Ten himself, and his laptop, the wallpaper a picture of the group at a rally, Ten lying across several laps and beaming at the camera. Johnny sees himself in the middle of it, a hand on Ten’s waist and his other arm around Mark, not a bad place to be.

 

Johnny plops down on the bed, shrugging his jacket off as he watches Ten rummage through his drawers. He comes up with a victorious sound and an old, worn out t-shirt Johnny is pretty sure belongs to him, although he doesn’t care to give it that much though when Ten pulls his sweatshirt over his head, revealing the faint and yet graceful curve of his waist. His dancer’s body is always fascinating to explore, all lean muscle and yet so delicate, even with the bruises currently blooming across his ribs.

 

“Damn, they didn’t miss, uh?” Johnny throws across the room, earning a huff from Ten as he pulls at the hem of his binder to take it off.

 

“Looks worse than it feels.” he says, peeling the garment off and letting out a delighted sigh when he throws it in the laundry basket. “This, on the other hand, feels amazing.”

 

There’s only a few seconds for Johnny to trace the lines of Ten’s back before he pulls the t-shirt over his head, and so he commits the image to memory, even though he’s seen it a dozen times over. 

 

“Are you really going to be ok?”

 

The question hangs heavy in the air, Ten still facing the wall. It’s something they’ve had to ask him and Yuta too often, their instincts and ideas taking them to dark places sometimes, a world of hurt promised by a society that doesn’t want to see them. Their passion and dedication is too beautiful, too powerful to tarnish by suggesting they stop, but no one in the group can help the worries that take over them when something like this happens. No one wants to see them become just another name on the petty crimes page.

 

“It hurts less than if I’d just let them talk.” is all the answer Johnny gets. He knows it’s true, knows how deep words can cut when they target the very fiber of your being.

 

“You’re never going to let me be right, are you.”

 

Ten only smiles at that, feet light across the floor as he taps away at his laptop and connects it to the speakers. Some slow, acoustic song starts playing, something Johnny thinks he recognizes but doesn’t have time to think about before Ten grabs him by the wrists and pulls him up, knocking the air out of his lungs.

 

“C’mere. Dance with me.” he murmurs against the skin where Johnny’s neck meets his shoulder, and Johnny cannot ever deny him.

 

The singer’s voice fills the room, raw and strung high on emotion like the two of them, swaying their bodies together in an easy motion. It’s always simple when they’re together, Johnny thinks, like this was always supposed to happen, like their souls searched for each other across every plane of existence before reaching this one and finding a fragile balance. Ten links their fingers together, spinning them around to the beat, giggling when Johnny’s feet get caught in a shirt that was left on the floor and they almost tumble down. 

 

“Goddamnit. You’re so messy!” he tries to sound annoyed but it turns into fondness, something that Ten, as usual, doesn’t miss.

 

“You love my mess.” 

 

He really does. Johnny has never considered himself a particularly well-adjusted, orderly, or obedient person, but Ten is a wholly different entity altogether. His mess as he calls it is beautiful like a broken geode, dangerous like a forest fire, a controlled chaos threatening to spill over. He’s unapologetic in who he is, always, determined to a fault even when it gets him in trouble, and Johnny doesn’t think Ten realizes just yet how he inspires people to be just a little bit more like that too. His mess is a whirlwind of color and sound that pulls everyone around him inside of it, something Johnny finds just as beautiful as Ten himself. Can’t have one without the other, after all.

 

“I love you. The mess is just collateral damage.” Johnny quips instead, because he doesn’t need Ten to know how he feels entirely just yet. He plans on giving himself a lot more time to tell Ten everything that resides in that corner of his heart. 

 

Ten gives him that small, soft smile Johnny likes to think is reserved just for him, pressing himself against Johnny’s chest to look up at him, eyes still burning with his own kind of fire even as they soften, meeting Johnny’s gaze and keeping him in place just like that.

 

“Is that so, lover boy.” 

 

Johnny could reply, keep the bickering going for a while if he wanted to, never out of things to tease Ten with just as he knows Ten always has a trick up his sleeve. But the truth is, there’s very little else he wants to do right now but kiss Ten, and touch Ten, and so he does just that.

 

Ten’s lips are chapped and bitten and they feel a little rough against his own but Johnny doesn’t mind, never minds it when Ten kisses him like he needs it to keep living, like he wants to consume him whole. There’s hunger in the way Ten loves, passion taking over like it often does, a statement made even when nobody’s watching. It makes Johnny feel warm in the same way sunlight does, makes him wrap his arms around Ten to pull him impossibly closer.

 

Ten sighs against his lips, pushing himself up on his tiptoes to kiss him better, hands tangling in Johnny’s hair and pulling just enough to make him hum in the back of his throat. Ten breaks away but stays in Johnny’s atmosphere, too close for comfort, not close enough for satisfaction. Johnny always enjoys the push and pull.

 

“Tell me.” he murmurs, almost against Ten’s lips.

 

Ten is already pulling at Johnny’s shirt, swaying them both gently to the beat until his knees hit the bed and he lets himself fall back, stretching out over the blankets, a certain feline quality to his movements at the shirt rides up somehow, exposes the smooth skin of his stomach. 

 

“Get me out of my mind.” Ten calls, settling against the pillows.

 

The music gets louder. Johnny can barely feel his own body moving as he lies down next to Ten, hand roaming across his stomach and chest, over the expanse of his ribs, fthe faint rise of bones like an unexplored valley under Johnny’s fingers. His palm brushes over a nipple and Ten sighs, arching ever so slightly into the touch, looking for more.

 

“Fuck, baby, just…” he breathes, spreading his legs so Johnny can slot himself between them.

 

He takes the invitation gladly, pushing the shirt all the way up, his lips finding an easy way down Ten’s body as he kisses between his breasts, leaving a trail of invisible marks along Ten’s skin. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Ten’s jeans, pulling them down in one swift motion as he continues his ministration, leaving no part of Ten untouched. 

 

The jeans - and subsequently, underwear - are quickly disposed of, leaving only skin and inviting heat as Johnny settles, a hand pushing Ten’s leg up and apart some more so he can get comfortable. He always enjoys how dainty and small Ten looks and feels compared to him, how he can hold and unravel Ten with just one hand, and how that’s usually all it takes for Ten to melt against the sheets, to give himself up to the feeling. It’s a stark contrast to how fierce Ten can get in life just as he can in bed, setting himself on fire just for the thrill of it.

 

Another thing Johnny always enjoys, that he’ll never quite get used to, is the way Ten whines for him when he finally gets his mouth between Ten’s legs. He doesn’t even need to do much, the first touch of his tongue seemingly making something snap in his boyfriend, sweet little noises escaping him as he angles his hips to seek more.

 

“Damn, has it really been that long?” the words are teasing, and Johnny presses a kiss to the inside of Ten’s thigh for good measure.

 

“Johnny, love of my life, fire of my loins, don’t make me do this myself.” Ten nearly growls, a hand snaking dangerously close to his own crotch. Johnny stops it just in time, kissing up the inch or so he needs before his lips are against Ten’s wet heat again, the younger man shivering a little at the sudden contact. 

 

The most fascinating thing about getting intimate with Ten, more than his admittedly amazing body, or his playfulness, is how incredibly responsive he is to the slightest contact, the barest graze over his sensitive skin making him spasm and moan in delight like he hasn’t been touched in months. 

 

It’s addictive to Johnny, seeing and feeling and hearing how Ten reacts to the way he goes about this, flattening his tongue as he licks a long, slow stripe all the way to Ten’s clit just to hear him whine again. 

 

“You’re a horrible, horrible man, Johnny S- fuck!” 

 

Johnny wants to laugh, but instead he wraps his lips around Ten’s clit and sucks, putting pressure in small increments until Ten is panting, moaning high pitched and breathy and knotting his fingers in Johnny’s hair again.

 

That in turn only pushes Johnny forward, makes him busy his tongue between Ten’s labia, finding the ring of muscle and licking over it. Ten’s so wet already that it’s going to make what Johnny has in mind that much easier, but for now he keeps prying his lover open best he can, feeling Ten’s grip on his arm loosen as he loses himself in Johnny’s touch.

 

There’s no music quite like the sounds Ten is making, soft gasps escaping his lips when Johnny’s warm hands spread across his thighs, the way he whines, sound dying in his throat, when Johnny pushes his tongue past his entrance just a bit, testing him. 

 

“God that’s so… Fuck, so good, Johnny please give me-- more, I need more…” Ten pleads with him, sweet and low, an uncommon rasp in his voice making Johnny’s blood rush south.

 

He protests a little when Johnny’s hand leaves his thigh, but the noise stops abruptly when Johnny pushes one finger inside him, slowly, like they have all the time in the world (and maybe they do. It certainly always feels like it), tight heat enveloping the digit as Ten settles. Just for fun, as is often the case, Johnny blows cool air against Ten’s clit, giving his boyfriend barely a moment to protest before he licks the sensitive nub again, moving his finger slowly as he does. It’s an easy feeling, and Johnny builds up a slow rhythm just how he knows Ten likes it, a crescendo of sorts.

 

There isn’t a moment of respite for either of them, Ten gasping and crying out cursing under his breath when Johnny adds a second finger soon after, the dull burn of being stretched open always leaving him a little breathless, even now. He doesn’t say anything, only keeps his hand on Johnny’s head, trying to guide him where he wants him even as Johnny does his utmost to keep his own game going. The struggle never gets serious, and they quickly find what works for both of them, but they enjoy it all the same, a game of power and control that leaves everyone satisfied.

 

Even as he relishes in the way Ten comes undone for him, Johnny notices the signs, the way Ten starts clenching around his fingers, how his thighs quiver when Johnny licks him a little harder, how his breathing is audibly coming in short and stuttered. He squeezes Ten’s thigh once, twice, and the dancer responds by grinding his hips down in a silent demand for more.

 

A third finger joins the first two, Ten gasping out ‘ _ fuck, yeah, like that’ _ , swinging his leg over Johnny’s shoulder to let him in deeper. There’s a certain urgency in the way he touches every part of Johnny he can reach, in how his hips move almost of their own accord to meet each thrust of Johnny’s fingers, each touch of his lips and tongue.

 

“Fuck, fuck, wait s-stop..!” Ten suddenly cries out, and Johnny can feel the muscle tensing where he’s holding Ten’s thigh, lifting his head in confusion.

 

“Don’t… Not like this -- fuck me,  _ please _ .” 

 

Ten’s voice is strained, and he presses the heel of his palm to his eyes to try and regain his composure even for just a moment, enough for Johnny to crawl back up over him and nuzzle into his neck. There are demands he’ll never say no to.

 

His own pants are thrown away somewhere in the room - Johnny hope they landed in the laundry basket just so he can brag about it later - and when he presses himself down against Ten’s body, he feels Ten’s hand slipping between them, pushing the waistband of his boxers down as much as he can, fingernails scraping against Johnny’s skin as he fumbles with the fabric. There’s desperation in his movements, in the way he hooks a leg over Johnny’s like he’s afraid to lose any point of contact, and Johnny decides to be merciful, pulling his boxers down himself. 

 

Ten’s hand is still there to catch his cock at it springs free, the touch suddenly making Johnny incredibly aware of how hard and needy he is, hips stuttering forward to grind against Ten’s palm. 

 

“Johnny, under the bed…” Ten signals, reluctantly taking his hand back so Johnny can slouch over and blindly look for the small box where Ten keeps all necessities. 

 

“You can do it!” 

 

Johnny almost starts, instead making a content noise when his hand finds the box and he manages to grab what he needs. He dangles the condom in front of Ten’s face for a moment, smiling at the way Ten scrunches up his nose as he beams up at him, expectant. It almost makes Johnny want to take his time, to watch Ten squirm as he rolls the rubber over himself and takes his cock in his hand, to touch himself a little before he takes him apart. 

 

Almost, because Ten is looking at him with that darkened haze falling over his beautiful eyes, and Johnny can’t resist him, not now, not really ever, when he gets like this. So he situates himself, bracing on one arm that Ten immediately grabs, fingers digging into skin while Johnny sinks into him.

 

Johnny stops for a moment when he’s all the way in, closing his eyes for a second to listen to Ten’s labored breathing, take in the way Ten is holding on to him. There’s a tight ball of heat in his gut fueled by want and need, edging him on to start moving, Ten’s fingernails digging into his back, a piercing kind of pain that turns into pleasure when their bodies come together.

 

He can’t see what he’s doing exactly, his head falling against Ten’s shoulder as he finds that same rhythm that’ll take them both where they want to go.

 

Ten brings a hand up to cup Johnny’s face best he can, supporting him as he leans up into a kiss, and though its raw and messy, a clash of lips and tongues and a little too much teeth, it still feels like unity. Johnny snaps his hips a little faster without even realizing and Ten outright moans into his mouth, throwing his head back as if offering his neck instead, an elegant line for Johnny to follow. He kisses down the path, in the hollow of Ten’s throat and down his sternum, bowing his back to mouth at Ten’s breasts; the position isn’t ideal but Johnny makes do, too focused on the sensations right now to think of anything else but the way Ten is arching off the bed to meet him, their bodies like magnets.

 

The room blurs around them, the sound of their labored breathing and of skin against skin drowning out the music that’s still faintly coming from the speakers, forgotten in time. It’s almost too good to be true, Johnny reasons sometimes, that he and Ten met and clicked like this on every level, a miracle of life if he’s ever seen one.

 

But then again Ten is a miracle in himself. 

 

Meeting him had been, even for all the bickering they do and the mayhem they cause, one of the rare moments in Johnny’s life where he felt at peace with the universe. Far from all the decorum of the kid Johnny went to private school with, Ten is loud and bright, a light that shines without filter, and he gets Johnny the way few people do. When they’re together, there’s no second guessing or fear of judgement, just an easy flow of communication that lets them be exactly who they are, a moment of respite from the world. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone, really, when they fell in together in the way they are now.

 

Ten doesn’t ask anything even as he notices that Johnny slows down, simply wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist to hold him close, drawn out sounds between a sob and a whimper wrenched from his throat when Johnny thrusts inside him, the slow drag of it making the smaller man shiver. Ten mumbles under him, something about  _ ‘close’ _ and  _ ‘just give it, baby’ _ , and Johnny laughs against his chest, licking over a nipple for good measure and making Ten whine.

 

“What the hell-- ahh, fuck, nevermind just…” he starts, but he doesn’t get to finish, words blurring into something else as Johnny picks up the pace, as he slides a hand between their bodies towards Ten’s crotch, long fingers ghosting over his abdomen.

 

They’re both beyond words but Ten still manages to call him the only Thai insult Johnny knows when he presses two fingers to Ten’s clit, rubbing him in time with the thrusts, Ten’s moans getting more erratic with time, excruciating moments before the fall.

 

It is, as always when these two are together, a perfect storm. Ten spasms under him and screws his eyes shut, legs like a vice around Johnny’s waist as he takes everything, refuses to let go even as he starts whining from how sensitive he feels. Johnny sags a little against him, waits for Ten to signal that he’s all good and that Johnny can pull out, but instead Ten keeps his legs firmly where they are, hands finding Johnny’s face and making him look straight at him.

 

“C’mon, big boy. You know I can take it.” he says through a heavy breath, the smile on his lips almost enough to tip Johnny over the edge.

 

Ten is a man of his word, and he takes everything in stride, relaxing against the bed and letting Johnny fuck into him, almost purring as he does, playing with Johnny’s hair and talking him through it, a litany of teases and compliments that only make sense when it’s the two of them. Ten knows exactly what Johnny wants, had been the one to help him discover a lot of it, discussions in the dead of night leading to moments like this, only bodies left alive as their minds caught ablaze.

 

There’s an easy sort of quiet in the room when Johnny groans, his thrusts becoming more erratic, and Ten lets his head fall back against the pillows, moaning in return at the stimulation, clenching down hard on Johnny’s cock. Johnny tenses above him, voice low and hoarse as he whispers a trail of curses against Ten’s skin when he comes, his legs nearly giving out.

 

Ten catches him, with all his might.

  
  
  


The shower at Ten’s is tiny, and if its owner were any bigger there would be very little chance of the both of them managing to fit inside together. Johnny almost brains himself against the ceramic tiles of the wall, and Ten gets shampoo in his eyes and screams like his head’s been cut off, but they still manage to get clean, Johnny giving Ten an exasperated look when he finds both another of his t-shirts and a pair of his own boxers in the drawers. 

 

They settle on the bed, no music this time except the occasional giggle from Ten as Johnny kisses his jaw, always training his body to memorize every line of Ten’s, a perfect picture of love in all its raw glory.

 

“Do you think you’ll ever stay out of trouble?” he asks when Ten presses the spot on his side where the bruises are and screws his face up in discontentment.

 

“What if I don’t want to?” 

 

Johnny pulls Ten closer to him, absentmindedly kissing the top of his head. He should have expected that reply, and he’s learned over the years that Ten will never back down from anything that challenges his existence. It’s a kind of strength Johnny wishes he had, hopes he can learn to channel one day.

 

“I know you worry. Everyone does. But I can’t just let a few bruises stop me.” 

 

There’s a finite feeling in the way Ten speaks, his fingers twining with Johnny’s when he takes his hand. Johnny sighs and drops his head against the wall, unable to find any way to refute that. He knows, even if it kills him sometimes, that Ten is right.   
  


“Then I’ll go with you.”

 

Ten snaps his head around so fast Johnny thinks he hears a crack, or maybe it’s just his imagination playing stupid tricks on his worried mind. It all fades soon enough when Ten climbs into his lap, bumping their foreheads together. 

 

“Oh captain, my captain,” he says, a smile spreading across his face, his arms around Johnny’s neck. “Are you ready to sail this storm with me?”

 

Johnny tickles the side that was left untouched, catching Ten when he doubles over and almost falls off his seat. 

 

“Ready? You know me, I was born ready.” 

 

“You’re so fucking cheesy.” Ten cracks, and it’s supposed to be a jab but then he kisses Johnny, soft and slow, a respite in the eye of the storm.

 

If this is as close to peace as they ever know, then it’ll all be worth it.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> title from "two coffins" by against me!, which is also the song they're dancing to.
> 
> "how lucky i ever was to see,  
> the way that you smiled at me,  
> your little moon face shining bright at me,  
> one day soon there'll be nothing left of you and me."
> 
> i'm guessing most people know by now that the frontwoman of against me!, laura jane grace, is a trans lady, and since i love her and this song in particular it just felt right. it sets a certain atmosphere, i think.
> 
> thank you to everyone who's clicked & left feedback on this series, as always you guys rock my world ~
> 
> thank you to dylan, bru & ricki, as always, for letting me cry and whine about this verse for hours uwu
> 
> here's my [twitter](http://twitter.com/diaminghao) if you wanna yell


End file.
